


Civil

by CharlieNozaki



Category: One Piece
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - War, Angst, Battle, Civil War, Drama, Forbidden Love, M/M, Military, Past Relationship(s), Soldiers, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-10 15:53:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11694966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlieNozaki/pseuds/CharlieNozaki
Summary: It’s said that war is hell. But Zoro Roronoa isn’t so sure it’s because of the combat. As a soldier, he finds himself faced with a shitty challenge of a different….possibly blond….caliber.(War/Soldier AU. Includes artwork).





	1. Battle

* * *

The mud was ankle deep that day, thanks to the damn rain that had assaulted them the night before. It was ankle deep and fucking _cold,_ and that was more than enough necessary to double the misery in the trenches, filthy water pooling in even the most waterproof of boots, chilling toes, and making every man restless and uncomfortable.

As if they weren’t already, having been stuck there, between those narrow dirt walls, for nearly a week now with barely any action.

Of course, restlessness was hardly a good thing when they were supposed to be quiet and still, peering stealthily over the top of the trench wall with guns pointed out into the ruined city around them.

Somewhere out there, the Government’s army was lurking, possibly lying in wait for the Rebels to make an attack, but still lurking nonetheless.

Tensions were high, limbs were trembling, and the crunch of Zoro’s teeth was loud on the hard biscuit he pulled from his pocket and shoved in his mouth.

Instantly, scowls from his fellow soldiers, weathered helmets swiveling towards him like a bale of angry turtles as every man in his general vicinity craned his neck to glare at him.

Nevermind that Zoro Roronoa was perhaps the best man they had in terms of deadly accuracy and physical combat skills. He was only nineteen, but he’d trained hard enough to assure his skill was equal to or greater than men with over ten years his senior.

And their troop had hardly seen real battle yet, only _just_ rotated for a turn in the trenches, a group of fresh, young soldiers eager to prove their worth and win this damn war, if only so they could go home and finally have enough to eat, finally be free of the oppressive hold the Government had put on them in recent years.

Most of them were farmers, _sons_ of farmers, countrymen that had lived in poverty for far too long while the economy boomed for the rich and privileged.

Zoro was a product of this, an orphan who’d grown up with his father’s friend on a rural farm and left for the army as soon as he was able, if only to see the world and give himself a sense of self-worth. And to fulfill promises from his younger days.

Perhaps he would still be training if an assassin hadn’t infiltrated a meeting between the Five Elders of the Government, failed to kill any of them, but incited an all-out civil war when the Rebellion, having stayed merely vocal for years, took the event as inspiration to finally launch a physical attack.

Sides were chosen, troops were deployed, and so it had been for months now, with both sides suffering and neither making particular headway.

Although here in the ruins of Shandora, a once vibrant, glowing city that now lay abandoned in rocky shambles, the effects of the war were obvious and rather shocking to the men when they’d arrived.

It hadn’t shocked Zoro though, and this was partially why he was able to stand there, gaze trained at the rubble of broken buildings before him, gun poised and ready to shoot at any moment….but going right ahead with his snacking. Because this was life now, and they somehow still had to live it.

He could sense, from behind him, the quiet approach of another soldier whose mere presence caused the man standing on Zoro’s right to step aside, the new soldier raising his gun and taking his place.

Zoro didn’t look at him, but he could sense, almost from his aura itself, that this was one of the new soldiers, brought over with a fresh rotation of troops only the day before.

They were from a different part of the East, near the sea, and though most of them had blended right in with the rest, there was one that had stood out.

A blond, who seemed different from the others. Friendly, and kind. Zoro had seen him chatting and offering reassuring smiles to some of the younger men, making sure they were getting enough to eat. It seemed he was wholeheartedly dedicated to not only the cause, but caring for the others around him. And in war, even among comrades, that often didn’t happen.

So Zoro assumed _this guy_ wasn’t going to care so much that he was keeping himself sustained.

“Little loud, huh?” the man murmured beside him quietly, amusement in his voice, and through his crunching, it took Zoro a second to realize the guy meant _him._

Zoro glanced over, just briefly, to note the smirk on the man’s face, blond waves of hair partially covering one of his eyes. His uniform was so clean, still a pristine, if dull, green that had yet to be battered and sullied by the elements like Zoro’s had, and his helmet still had a shine to it.

He looked relaxed as he stood there, even with his gun aimed, and when his eyes met Zoro’s, there was a glint of mischief there.

He reminded Zoro of someone, someone he’d lost, as much as he didn’t want to admit it to himself, eager to avoid any hint of distracting pain.

Zoro looked away, focusing his gaze back out on the dusty battlefield, at the crumbled stones and broken windows, empty of feeling and devoid of their pasts like him.

“Who’s gonna hear me? The dirt?” Zoro muttered in reply, lifting a hand to pick some biscuit from his teeth before going back to ignoring his uninvited companion again.

“They’re out there, y’know,” he heard the blond justify. “Don’t think that they’re not. Just because we can’t see them doesn’t mean….”

He trailed off when Zoro dug in his pocket again, pulling out another biscuit and taking a purposeful bite.

The unimpressed look the blond shot at him was practically just as audible.

“This new to you, pal?” the blond asked, voice level but with an edge of exasperation. “Would you like me to explain to you how war works?”

Zoro gave a quiet snort. As if this guy, who hardly looked any older than him, had experienced more.

“You don’t have a scuff on you,” Zoro muttered. “Why don’t you come back and talk to me after you’ve spent a damn week in this shithole.”

The blond shrugged.

“No need to get snippy,” he said. “Besides, think I’d rather talk to you _now._ Y’know, before we all get blown up or something.”

His voice softened then, and Zoro felt a slight nudge from the guy’s elbow.

“I saw you tell Coby where to go for his rations yesterday,” said the blond. “Thanks. Poor kid’s barely eighteen. Has no idea what he’s doing.”

Zoro frowned, mind working to remember who he was talking about….

It hit him as he stared at a broken window pane that glinted in the sunlight just like the kid’s glasses had, eyes wide and intimidated by his surroundings. Zoro had noticed him stumbling about, jostled between soldiers squelching their way through the narrow trench, no care for a new arrival who could barely hold his gun in his trembling grip.

Zoro remembered shouldering him towards the correct line with a grunt because anyone who didn’t stand in the right place was just in the way. Space was limited, and many soldiers’ fuses were extremely short.

“Oh. Him,” Zoro mumbled. “He was asking to get trampled. Surprised you even know his name.”

“Of course I know his name,” the blond replied incredulously. “We’re comrades here---why _wouldn’t_ I learn it?”

Zoro shrugged.

It wasn’t like Zoro remembered any himself. Not anymore.

Back at the training camp, he had. One name in particular still stood out in his mind. But….now he figured he didn’t have much hope of future friendship with these guys. Better to not get attached. That never ended well.

Sometimes the attachment never ended at all….

“Seems like a waste of a time if you ask me,” was all Zoro muttered in response, to which the blond gave a little tsk of disapproval.

“Aren’t you a ray of sunshine,” Zoro’s companion replied, the shaking of his head visible out of the corner of Zoro’s eye.

And Zoro assumed that was it. He was usually pretty good at getting people off his case, shutting down conversations.

Maybe now this too-optimistic blond would let him have his peace once more.

It was quiet for a long moment, leaving Zoro to believe that, yes, he would. Nothing but the sounds of a crow in the distance, and the occasional murmurings of other soldiers….

“Am I gonna get your name?”

But no. Peace interrupted, and Zoro had to resist the urge to groan at the blond’s persistence. 

Still, with hopes that it would pacify the man, he grumbled out, “It’s Zoro, okay? Jeez. Haven’t you ever heard it’s polite to introduce _yourself_ first if you wanna know someone...?”

The blond just gave a light-hearted chuckle though and replied, “Guess you’re right. Where are my manners?”

Immediately after, Zoro found a gloved hand jutting his way, and his gaze shifted to look at the man, who was smiling and clearly waiting for him to shake it.

Zoro blinked at it for a second, even as the guy started to give an introduction. 

“Well, Zoro. My name’s Sa---”

But he didn’t get to finish because Zoro’s ears pricked, hearing the faintest low whistle from above them.

His eyes widened.

And then he reached out to shove the blond to the ground, shouting, _“GET DOWN!”_ for everyone else’s benefit, just before the trench, a mere fifty feet away, exploded in a cloud of fire, dirt, and debris.

Screams of both agony and horror filled the air, Zoro raising both arms up to cover his head as he ducked against the wall, closing eyes and only opening them when he heard the sloshing of water behind him as panicked soldiers tried to run away from the explosion site.

The muddy water had a sickening red tinge to it…

Zoro didn’t move though because another whistle had sounded, and then, on his opposite side, another deafening explosion, closer this time, setting his ears ringing and a hard shudder through his body when he felt something warm and wet hit him on the neck and back, something that could have been mud….or a piece of a soldier. He couldn’t be sure.

What he did know was that if they stayed here, they were just asking to get picked off, and already, when he looked up, he could see soldiers scrambling to climb out of the trench, despite having no clue what lay in the battlefield beyond.

Boots slipped and slid fruitlessly down the muddy walls, frantic cries and pained clenching of teeth, hands digging into the dirt desperately as the surviving men tried to escape before they too were blown to pieces by the sudden attacks. It was every man for himself.

Zoro felt a hand clamp down on his arm, and he looked up to find the blond staring at him urgently, fear, but also determination in his eyes.

“We can’t stay here!” he called out, his voice sounding far away to Zoro’s ears in the aftermath of the explosions, but Zoro heard him and nodded, getting to his feet and actively closing his mind to the river of blood that now flowed around their boots.

He had to ignore the moans of those injured as well, particularly when he heard more explosions from farther off. Surely the attack wouldn’t end until every last one of them was eliminated.

But he wasn’t planning on dying anytime soon, and apparently, neither was this blond, who’d already dug the jagged soles of his boots into the wall and kicked off hard to give himself enough leverage to pull himself out.

He did so with a bit of a grimace, and he nearly dropped his gun, the weapon strap almost sliding off his shoulder, but Zoro caught it for him, just before launching himself up too.

They were lucky. The wall in front of them had been pretty dry, making it easier to climb out.

The blond’s hands were gripping Zoro’s uniform, giving him an extra tug from above to help his ascent, and soon, the both of them were forced to their feet again, knowing they couldn’t linger out in the open.

So they ran, feet pounding hard in the dirt, over the cracked road and between the crumbling skeletons of buildings, running as fast as they could, away, just before another deafening explosion behind them nearly sent the both of them crashing to the ground with the shockwave.

Zoro risked a glance behind him when he heard the rain of dirt stop its quiet patter.

There was nothing there anymore, just red-stained dirt and fallen bodies that he thankfully didn’t know the names of.

There was no turning back.

The blond man stayed by his side, surprisingly, even as, in his peripheral, he saw the few lucky survivors who’d also made it out veering off on their own, stopping to cower behind broken walls.

Zoro and the blond ran farther than the rest, his companion’s lanky legs carrying him swiftly over the rough terrain without tripping or faltering in the slightest.

For all his speed though, he didn’t abandon Zoro. In fact, he repeatedly checked over his shoulder to make sure Zoro was still following, and when they finally reached a somewhat dead end at the edge of what had once been a park, the blond pulled him down against a low wall around the perimeter.

“Are you okay?” was the first thing he panted out, his hand, which trembled slightly, clenched tightly in Zoro’s jacket sleeve.

“Yeah,” Zoro replied, breathing heavily, but otherwise unharmed. “You?”

The blond just nodded, finally dropping his hand to take hold of his gun, peering carefully over the wall, Zoro doing the same a second later.

Beyond it was what used to be a large circular fountain pool, a majestic statue of an angel in the center, now with one wing lying in the stagnant water below, the rest of it badly chipped and marred.

“I know for a fact the Government’s camp is out past this park somewhere,” Zoro’s companion said, his grip on his gun tightening a bit. “Surprised they haven’t started marching….”

Thankfully, they had the cover of some miraculously still-standing trees that lined what had probably been a busy street at one point, a few lampposts dotting the edges of the busted walkway.

“If they haven’t already, shouldn’t be long,” Zoro muttered bitterly, scanning the buildings he could see across the park for any sign of movement, the smell of gunpowder and smoke in the air reminding him that they were anything but safe.

He turned to the blond then with conviction.

“We’ve gotta pick off as many as we can before they get to the others,” he stated, the other man instantly balking.

“What!?” he hissed. “There’s only two of us! That’ll just be suicide!”

“Yeah, well, tough luck. We’ll just have to survive. Unless you’re set on dying today,” Zoro replied simply.

The blond could only stare at him as if he’d lost his mind.

“Right, because it’s that easy to survive,” said the blond.

Zoro nodded.

“Sure it is. We survived so far.”

“Are you crazy?” the blond shot back.

“No. I’ve just got shit I gotta do in life. Can’t die here.”

Zoro’s companion let out a disbelieving huff, shaking his head and looking back over the wall again for a second before he ultimately met Zoro’s eye again.

“Alright, fine. So we survive,” he muttered, and Zoro couldn’t help but smirk a little.

The blond was no coward. That much was obvious, particularly when the man’s lips even turned up the tiniest bit.

“You must have some amazing woman waiting for you back home if you’re willing to fight that hard,” he said, prompting Zoro’s eyebrows to raise.

“A woman?” Zoro asked in surprise, and despite the circumstances, the blond actually chuckled.

“Sure. What, been in the army too long? Never seen one before?”

“Course I have,” Zoro muttered, with a scoff and a hint of a scowl on his face when he looked away sulkily. “I don’t got a _woman.”_

Another chuckle from the blond, who then asked, “What do you got then? Pigs? Horses? Cows?”

But Zoro only scowled harder, so the other man just shrugged.

“I’m only teasing,” he said, reaching out to clap Zoro on the shoulder briefly before he quieted, gaze fixed on Zoro’s face, just in front of his ear, where fingers reached up to gently brush at a bit of blood smeared there. Most likely not his….

The blond’s expression began to darken again, and he lowered his hand, shooting another glance at the rubble ahead of them.

In that moment, Zoro’s eyes had flicked to him, his own hand automatically lifting to touch the same spot the blond had.

He pulled it away, looked at the blood there on his fingertips, and felt entirely numb.

“What _are_ you fighting for then…?”

The blond’s voice sounded softly again, and Zoro’s gaze rose to his once more.

He opened his mouth….but couldn’t say anything for some reason, his heart unexpectedly jumping into his throat as the image of _her_ flashed through his mind.

“Oh, right. _I_ should speak first before I demand answers out of you,” said the blond pointedly before Zoro could fumble for too long, eventually closing his mouth and watching a wistful sort of confidence come over the blond.

“I’m fighting for freedom. The freedom for all of us to see the world and its oceans, to finally live as we want, pursue what _we_ want,” he breathed. “The average man should not have to live with lesser worth than those with affluence.”

The man sighed, before continuing, “I want that...more than anything. I feel like I’ve been fighting for it for so long….Maybe this war, as terrible as it is, will finally bring about change.…”

Zoro watched the man’s gaze cast downwards towards the ground, his brow drawing in briefly as if remembering something tumultuous before he shook his head and looked back up.

“So what about you?” he asked, and the delay still hadn’t allowed Zoro to work up the conviction to speak his mind, so he simply answered, “Yeah. I want that too….”

It was true. He did want that, and of course he was here for that, but the face of his driving force was someone more important, someone stronger than the “average man” and he didn’t feel ready to tell that to a complete stranger. A stranger whose name he didn’t even…..

Now it was Zoro’s turn to sigh.

They’d made it this far. And maybe they’d only known each other for a few heartbeats, but given the chaos and turmoil they’d just faced together, Zoro decided perhaps the gutsy blond had earned his next thought.

“You….never finished telling me your name…” he mumbled, almost a little embarrassed, given what he’d said earlier.

The blond smiled a little, quirking a brow slightly.

“Don’t think it’s a waste of time?” he asked, Zoro rolling his eyes in response, only serving to make the blond’s grin widen.

He stuck out a hand again, ready for a proper introduction at least.

“It’s Sabo,” he said, and Zoro slowly reached out to give his hand a shake.

“Kay…” Zoro muttered, almost unsure what to do with that information before he brought his hand back to his gun and peered over the wall himself.

That was when he jolted, however, eyes widening and his head ducking down lower because he’d seen _movement._ He’d definitely seen movement beyond the weedy grass and the skeletal trees barely managing to stand in the distance.

 _“Dammit,”_ he breathed, Sabo instantly sensing the danger too, ducking down as well.

Sure enough, over the rubble came an advancing line of Government troops, their white uniforms covered in dust and dirt, but still managing to stand out almost mockingly well, as if they hadn’t a care to hide their advance.

Zoro heard the other man let out a sharp breath. Then he turned to Zoro one last time.

“Well, guess this is it, huh?” he said, and Zoro was pleased for his resolve. It gave him a boost of confidence also.

“Yeah. Follow me. Let’s stick together as long as we can,” he instructed.

Sabo nodded, then followed Zoro’s lead as he carefully stood a little and started to move stealthily along the wall, finally straightening when there was no more wall to shield him, only trees, some of which were too skinny to provide any cover.

But it didn’t matter because there was shouting from afar. Someone else must have given himself away. The sounds of gunshots. Another explosion.

And then, fearlessly charging feet pounding across the ground towards them, bringing chaos.

There was nothing else to do but rush into the fray, darting from tree to tree for as long as he could before Zoro met with his first enemy soldier, not even needing to shoot him, simply bringing his gun down hard on the back of the guy’s neck, sending him toppling head-first onto a sharp pile of debris.

He saw Sabo clash with another man close-by, but there was nothing Zoro could do to help him as someone else had already rushed at him, gun aimed to shoot.

Zoro got there first, shooting the guy in the stomach with a quick blast, mercilessly turning his gun on several others who darted his way.

They had grenades, Zoro saw, the tiny bombs raising dust and wreaking havoc on the trees they’d just taken cover under.

That glance backward afforded him with the opportunity to notice that others from their own troop had emerged from their hiding places, now bravely fighting in the brutal man-to-man combat that had broken out over the unstable ruins of the city.

He’d only looked behind him for a moment. 

But it had been a long enough moment.

A Government soldier stood several paces away, the small beveled shape of a handheld grenade in his hand and a sickly gleeful smile on his face as he pulled out the pin and threw it Zoro’s way, just before that smile was wiped away forever with a gunshot to his head, Sabo lowering his weapon shortly after and sprinting towards his comrade as if he could do something.

But the look of growing dread and panic that came over the blond proved he knew. _He_ could do nothing.

_“Zoro!”_

A familiar voice shouted his name, but Zoro couldn’t move, couldn’t react, just watched that grenade traveling towards him in a smooth arc, like a deadly bird swooping in on him.

Stupidly, his first instinct was to target it with his gun, just like the clay pigeons he used to shoot at for fun when he was younger.

 _She_ had always been so much better at it than him...

A body collided with his, tackling him out of the way before he had the chance to do something so foolish.

He smelled smoke, but not the horrible, stifling smoke that assaulted the air now.

It came from cigarettes, and just before the explosion, he saw a flash of blond hair, far more golden than the sandy color of Sabo’s.

And the arms protecting him now…..

He remembered them all too clearly, still dreamt about them nearly every night.

An explosive blast, chunks of dirt and pieces of the earth shooting out in every direction.

Zoro’s back hit the ground, helmet protecting his head but still rattling him enough to make his vision go momentarily white.

A slicing sting across the left side of his face and shouts of pain, one from the body currently atop his....

He saw nothing, heard nothing but that awful high-pitched ringing in his ears.

Zoro’s face hurt. He could feel blood, his own this time, dripping down his cheek, felt it in his very eye, causing his whole head to throb.

He lay there, stunned beyond mobility, and for how long? He didn’t know.

He thought he heard his name being called again, though it might have been his imagination.

No, he could only focus on the feeling of another person’s difficult labored breaths against his chest, that nostalgic smell of the person’s hair.....and the sensation of warm blood seeping into his uniform from the one atop his.

Zoro tried, with all his might, to open his good eye, sit up as much as he could and roll the other soldier’s body off him onto the ground beside him.

He couldn’t look at him for long, shock already causing his consciousness to fade again, but he saw the man’s still face, saw the blood trailing from his mouth, knew he would find brilliant blue behind his closed eyelids.

Zoro rose trembling fingers to stroke over this blond’s jaw, over the dark stubble dusting his chin, and over pale, slack lips that he could never forget.

His hand fell back to the dirt, as did his entire body.

And just before his world went completely black, he breathed the one name he definitely _hadn’t_ believed to be a waste of memory.

_“Sanji…”_

Darkness...

* * *

_Author's Note: This is a fictional AU, of course, but time period is circa 1940s. So think World War 2-esque._


	2. Casualty

For the first time in what felt like far too long, Zoro had clean, linen sheets beneath his back. An actual mattress, not the ground or a mere cot. He was warm, had new clothes, and food to eat whenever he was hungry.

And yet, he lay awake, unable to sleep, unable to get comfortable ever since he’d woken up in the hospital that morning.

He wasn’t alone. With probably fifty beds lined against the wall, all filled with injured members of the Rebellion, and another fifty mirrored on the opposite side, he could hear the sounds of shifting, the moaning of those in pain, nurses’ voices murmuring words of comfort.

The room was long and open, save for a few ovals of curtains concealing the beds of those gravely injured, or still unconscious.

It was almost more uncomfortable than the trenches, in a way, this oddly reverent atmosphere that reminded him of a church and made him want to get the hell out as quickly as possible.

Zoro was able. The only injury he’d suffered had been to his face, a deep cut over his left eye from flying shrapnel. It had ruined his vision and he’d had to have the thing stitched up, a large white bandage taped over the wound, but he still had his other eye.

He had no business feeling sorry for himself when there were men here on the brink of death, dismembered and disfigured in far worse ways.

And his lack of injuries had all been because of one person….

“You should try and sleep, Zoro.”

A voice beside him, and he looked to the bed on his right, where Sabo was situated, the bandaged left side of his face in clear view, along with the bandages down his arms, all concealing burns that had been horrible, but hadn’t killed him. They’d both made it out, as they said they would.

The small light on Sabo’s bedside table was on, casting a warm glow over his form in the darkness as he quietly looked through a newspaper. He was reading the list of casualties reported after the Government’s attack on Shandora, and Zoro saw from his saddening expression that he recognized many of those killed, including that boy….Coby….

This was why Zoro didn’t learn names.

Zoro didn’t reply right away, just lay there, watching Sabo for a minute, then turning his gaze back up to the ceiling, at the long beams that reminded him so much of his adoptive father’s barn….where she and him used to beat each other to a pulp and then flop back in the hay to talk about their dreams….

He sat up abruptly, his mind suddenly made up.

He had to confront what he hadn’t wanted to confront, ever since he’d woken up in this hospital, ever since a nurse had informed him of what had happened, or at least, how he’d been found by the field medics.

“Where are you going?” Sabo asked gently, and Zoro just gave a grunt in reply.

“Fresh air…” was all he mumbled, even though it was late and even though it was a lie.

He walked down the long aisle between the beds, waving off nurses who tried to get him back into bed.

He left the room entirely, pushed open the glass-paneled doors and stepped out into the entrance hallway, wood creaking beneath his feet and moonlight stretching over the floor from windows high above.

There was a slight chill in the air, which he felt against the bare skin of his chest, but he didn’t return for his shirt, too preoccupied with the identical pair of doors in front of him.

The room directly across the hall was the same as his, and yet, it felt like an entirely different world as he stepped in unannounced, stares instantly assaulting him from the men still awake.

Almost as soon as he’d set foot in the long hall, a pretty blond nurse hurried up to him, features delicate and gentle, but still assertive.

He noticed she wore a small patch stitched on the front of her white uniform dress.

‘Kaya,’ it read.

He vaguely remembered seeing her when he first arrived, as he’d drifted in and out of consciousness. She’d dabbed a damp cloth over his sweaty forehead...

“Is everything alright, sir?” she asked, glancing behind him towards the room he’d come from. “I’m sorry, but I must ask you to return to the other room. It’s really not---”

“Let me see him,” he muttered, and he saw her brown eyes flash with recognition. She knew who he was talking about.

Her shoulders slumped somewhat, hands clasping in front of her as she looked torn.

Eventually though, she shook her head and replied, “I-I’m sorry. I think it’s better if---”

“He saved my life, didn’t he?” Zoro insisted, hoping he could still manage an intimidating glare even with half his face bandaged. “I wanna see him.”

“I---”

The woman started to protest again, but then closed eyes briefly and sighed.

“Alright,” she conceded quietly. “But please don’t start trouble…”

He grunted his thanks, saw her lingering look of apprehension even as she turned and led him down the aisle, finally stopping at a bed on the very end, a few apart from the others, the heavy, light green curtains pulled around it, something that admittedly set Zoro’s chest clenching nervously.

“Is he…?” he started to ask, but hesitated, deciding it best to conceal any emotion in his voice.

Kaya did offer a tiny smile of reassurance.

“It was touch and go for a while. He lost a lot of blood. But Dr. Trafalgar says he’ll pull through. He still has yet to regain proper consciousness for long though, so we’ve decided to give him a bit of privacy.”

Zoro resisted the urge to show any relief, simply nodded and watched as she pulled the curtains aside a small amount so he could pass through.

This time, Zoro mumbled, “Thanks,” out loud as he passed her, and she nodded, closing the curtain behind him.

And then he was standing before Sanji’s bed, the blond looking deathly pale, lying there in the cool rectangle of moonlight that collapsed over him from the window above his bed. 

The blankets were pulled up to his waist, but there were bandages crisscrossing his chest and arms, his skin nearly as white as the gauze, though Zoro could see spots of blood, particularly near his shoulder.

His chest rose and fell slowly, the only indication that he was indeed still alive, and Zoro found his gaze automatically traveling to the blond’s lips, his untouched face that had somehow survived any injury.

Zoro wanted to touch him. Desperately, his fingers _trembled_ with the urge to reach out, to feel his hair again, his heartbeat. Lips longed to lean in and taste once more what, for so many months, he’d taken for granted. Even if what they’d done had been risky, they’d never been caught, and Zoro had started to think they were invincible because of it, that they would never be separated.

That wasn’t the case. They’d each been deployed to different ends of the country.

Zoro had assumed that was the last he’d see of him.

But here Sanji was, looking exactly the same as he had those mornings Zoro had woken up under the trees, just before the morning bugles called them back to their training camp. He’d seen Sanji still asleep on the leaves, the bits of dirt stuck in his hair doing nothing to mar how damn ethereal he always managed to look.

Zoro would lie there watching him until those blue eyes fluttered open, thinking about how he hadn’t joined the army for goddamn romance, nor had he even had those intentions with Sanji.

But when an argument and an angry, drunken kiss had led to something that felt undeniably right, despite how wrong it was, by society’s standards….and Sanji hadn’t backed away?

Why would he let that go?

But there were big reasons, he realized, and the main one was currently folded on Sanji’s bedside table, glaringly white against the dark wood, the navy blue helmet resting atop his uniform.

And the Government insignia emblazoned, clear as day, on the side….

Zoro stared at it for a while, his initial rage over the matter when he’d learned of it hours earlier having simmered, the simple, forlorn question of, _“Why?”_ now remaining in his mind. 

Why….?

Zoro slowly lowered himself to sit on the edge of Sanji’s bed, deciding he would wait for that answer.

* * *

Sanji honestly hadn’t been expecting to live.

He’d spotted Zoro there, on the battlefield, shocked immobile with a grenade flying towards him, and he hadn’t even thought about himself, about what side he was on and how it would look.

He’d only thought of Zoro and his _damn_ smile and his dreams and how he could _not_ let him die.

So he’d run, shielded him without a second thought, and when everything had gone black, Sanji assumed that was it. He was dead.

But he hadn’t expected to wake, feverish and delirious, in a hospital, for just long enough to hear that Zoro was alive, before falling unconscious again.

He, thus, wasn’t sure how much time had passed when his senses began to come back to him again, first, good feelings, his hands atop the fleece blankets, the softness of a pillow beneath his head.

But it was followed by the dull ache of pain, all over his body, and the throbbing of a feverish head, that awful mix of being freezing cold and burning hot all at once.

A groan of discomfort, and he was aware of a sharp intake of breath that wasn’t his, a shifting directly beside him, though there was no voice, no indication of just who it was.

Not a nurse then…

No.

When he sucked in a deeper breath to combat the onslaught of pain, he knew who it was, because there was a comforting scent, that woodsy pine mixed with grains and hay, as if the farm hadn’t entirely left the soldier after all this time.

 _“Zoro…”_ he murmured out loud, just before he forced eyes to blink open blearily.

And sure enough, even exhausted and disoriented, he knew that head of mossy hair, perfect for camouflage, as he’d always teased him, and he knew those broad shoulders, his strong, angular jaw. Even with one eye bandaged, the other still served to speed up his heartbeat, its dark steely intensity almost doing double the work to make up for the lost one.

His voice was what he wanted to hear though.

He wanted those low, comforting tones. He wanted them close to his ear, fingers in his hair, and his heated body pressing ever closer, assuring him that nothing, sure as hell not war nor society, could tear them apart. Months and months later, after so much had changed, he still wanted that, he realized.

Because Sanji had always believed him, and now it terrified him to think that someone as reliable as Zoro could have been wrong…

Zoro still didn’t say anything, and Sanji was actually surprised he’d come at all, given the circumstances.

But it gave him some hope. Maybe Zoro would listen. Maybe Zoro would understand….

Or maybe he was an idiot for thinking so. But still, he had to try.

“You’re really alright,” Sanji murmured with some relief, though his eyes drifted to the bandages on Zoro’s face.

Zoro simply nodded, and Sanji saw his gaze move up and down Sanji’s form too before meeting his again.

Sanji sighed, and, with some difficulty, struggled to push himself up a bit to a sitting position.

He noticed, with a pang in his chest, that Zoro didn’t help him, that he was forced to prop his pillow up himself, endure the pain and discomfort without soothing touches or even a smirk on Zoro’s face.

He couldn’t expect it. He knew this.

And when Zoro’s silence persisted, the blond knew he was waiting, waiting for the explanation Sanji had planned out over and over again in his head, but still seemed entirely insufficient when faced with the real, living, breathing Zoro.

Instinctively, he wanted to kick him in the face, _make_ him talk, _pry_ a reaction out of the emotionless lug like he used to, but he knew he had no right now.

“Zoro….” Sanji started, figuring it was best to just jump into this. No amount of planning would make it go any smoother than it was destined to. So he told him the truth.

“Zoro, I had no choice.”

There were several reasons for this, but he figured he would start with the easiest to explain.

“My father….you know he works for the Government---”

“You hate your father,” Zoro instantly countered, finally, and the blond saw the flash of insistence in his eyes, as if he was imploring this still be true. “You didn’t even live with him---”

“I know,” Sanji shot back quietly, almost begging Zoro with his eyes to listen. “But he’s manufacturing the weapons for the entire army now. He can basically have anything he wants. Because without him, the army is screwed.”

“So what the hell does this have to do with you,” Zoro gritted out, not even a question, but a barely held-together thought as he struggled to maintain some semblance of composure.

Sanji could see the way his jaw muscles tightened, the blond knowing it was to hold back an outburst.

He had to make him see…

“He threatened my grandfather’s restaurant,” Sanji explained bitterly. “He threatened to finally foreclose the place if I didn’t join the Government army when I got deployed. My grandpa was---the place was struggling with the economy crash and---and my father said that---if I didn’t---”

“That’s bullshit!” Zoro hissed furiously, a hand fisting in the sheets beside Sanji’s hip as he leaned in closer automatically. “Like hell you have to listen to anything your father says! From what you told me, your grandpa wouldn’t want that! And what about your mom?! She wouldn’t make you---!”

“My mother died!” Sanji growled right back in Zoro’s face, breaths huffing out heavily, and even the shockwave of complete empathy he felt from the other man’s widening gaze wasn’t enough to comfort him.

Zoro retracted, sat back a bit and visibly tried to control himself.

“You didn’t…..you told me she was going to be alright…” he muttered, eyes flicking to Sanji’s only briefly before they looked away again.

The blond shook his head, bit the inside of his cheek and shrugged.

“I didn’t know,” he replied helplessly. “I wanted to believe she could make it, especially after you told me about Kuina….when you told me how hard she fought. How you both did, straight through to the end…. Resigning myself to her death would have been insulting. But we lost her about a week before the attack on the Elders...”

Zoro looked completely torn, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard and kept his gaze fixed pointedly away. It took Sanji a moment to notice he was staring at his uniform on the table…

“She still wouldn’t want this…” Zoro said eventually, not offering condolences for her death or anything of the sort. And while that hurt a little, Sanji knew he was right.

He just didn’t know how to tell him…

“Zoro, there’s something else…” he murmured after a minute, but Zoro rounded on him this time, a spark of fire coming back to his eyes.

“What? What else, Sanji!” he growled, disappointment in his voice now, that shook Sanji’s core. The last thing he wanted was disappointment from the man he’d vowed _not_ to let down.

“You’re stronger than this, aren’t you? You know what’s right and wrong! At least, I _thought_ you did!”

“I _do_ know what’s right, Zoro!” Sanji insisted, his hand automatically lowering to cover Zoro’s, and this time, he decided to try another tactic because he could sense the emotion from within the other man.

“You know I can’t let anything happen to the people I care about,” he continued, holding onto Zoro’s hand tighter to drive home his words when the other man tried to pull away with a frustrated growl.

“But think about what really _matters_ here!” Zoro implored. “You can’t actually think that---!”

Sanji lifted his hand, brought it to the back of Zoro’s neck and pulled him down to slam lips to his, hard, because dammit, what Zoro had said.

This was exactly how it had started, how _all_ of this had.

…

_“You **know** what matters, Sanji! It’s how we feel! Not **anything** else!”_

…

_“If you care…..if you give a damn about me, then don’t let it **stop** you!”_

…

Zoro had _insisted_ this.

Sanji broke the kiss, though he stayed right there, breathing his next words over the other soldier’s lips, fingers stroking through his hair.

“What about this?” he panted, with growing urgency. “What about this, huh? Isn’t _this_ all that matters?”

But then, hands on his shoulders, shoving him back, hard enough to jostle wounds and elicit a pained hiss when he slumped back against his pillow, somewhat in shock over Zoro’s reaction.

“You are fighting for the people that _killed Kuina_ \---the girl I grew up with---my _sister!”_ Zoro bit out angrily. “The _Government_ took away our farm! She starved---she got sick because of the _Government!_ Were you really willing to throw away the rest of us, all for the sake of one person’s _business?_ I thought you weren’t like them! I didn’t think you would---!”

“You’re right!” Sanji interrupted, his own anger and frustration rising within him at Zoro’s stubbornness. His inability to understand. “I _was_ willing to do that, because it was part of my dream and I didn’t want to see that come crashing down!”

He hated this. This was unlike any of their arguments in the past because he felt helpless. He felt like he had when his mother had died---like everything he loved was slipping away from him and there was nothing he could do about it.

“But guess what!” Sanji forced himself to continue, despite his dwindling hope. “When I saw you out there, on the battlefield, I realized that I might see my dreams crumble anyway if I lost you! I made mistakes, Zoro, but I was ready to pay the price for that by making sure _you_ stayed alive! Because you deserve it far more than me!”

His voice nearly broke at the end, and a fresh wave of terror crashed through him when Zoro merely looked disgusted in turn.

Dammit, he was _trying_ to make Zoro see. He was trying to tell him how much he meant, _still_ meant, so he didn’t just _run_ when Sanji finally got out the main reason for his pain. Why he didn’t think he’d be worthy of facing Zoro again, certainly not fighting on his side of the war, where he knew he wouldn’t be accepted because of where he was from...

“Save it, Sanji….” Zoro was muttering, his voice low and tired. He wouldn’t even look at Sanji as he shook his head slowly, lips turning up a bit, humorlessly.

“Y’know, I thought about you,” he admitted. “Every goddamn day, every goddamn night. I worried about you. If I would ever see you again.”

For a moment, Sanji wondered, thanks to the softness in Zoro’s voice, if maybe he’d broken through, if maybe he could trust Zoro not to overreact when he---

“Now I wish I hadn’t…”

Zoro’s words shattered the silence between them, his gaze piercing resolutely into Sanji’s.

It was a look the blond had seen before, a look he himself had broken Zoro out of when, after one particularly hard day of training. They’d come back to the barracks, seen the newspaper and the photos on the front page.

The lines of starving people waiting for mere scraps. The miners from _Zoro’s town_ who’d died deep underground because the Government had refused, for years, despite countless pleas, to increase their maintenance funding for the decades-old shaft, while still demanding more and more coal shipments every damn day.

They were men Zoro had known since childhood, his good friends Johnny and Yosaku among them, and it was a profession he’d nearly gone into himself, Sanji knew.

That _could have been Zoro,_ and Sanji remembered following him out to the woods, watching him let out his frustrations, punch at tree trunks until Sanji had taken his face in hands, stroked at his cheeks until he calmed, and assured him they’d make a difference. They would fight for justice, and that was why they were here.

Zoro had believed him, kissed him passionately, and now Sanji felt dirty. Hypocritical.

And yet, desperate.

“I saved your life, Zoro!” he croaked out, knowing it wasn’t enough, but maybe, just maybe, Zoro would still feel loyalty to him over that.

But Zoro simply closed his eyes for a moment, his brow furrowing and a sharp breath leaving him before opening them again.

“You did,” he allowed, though Sanji could tell from his voice that what he’d feared was true. “But if you wanted to save my future, you wouldn’t have joined the Government….”

“Zoro, I _had no choice!”_ A last ditch effort, a broken record, the blond reaching out to grasp Zoro’s arm with his left hand, as if he could physically keep him here.

“There’s _always_ a choice!” Zoro hissed, reaching up with his other hand to pry off Sanji’s grip, his own fingers sliding automatically over Sanji’s in the way they used to when he’d sneak a kiss to his knuckles, even in plain sight of the other soldiers.

Sanji’s breath drew in sharply, because he saw the moment Zoro felt it, saw his eyes widen and his gaze drift down to the blond’s fingers, seeing, for the first time…..the silver band around his ring finger.

Zoro’s mouth dropped open, and for the first time since sitting there, Sanji watched him work for words, none coming out for a long moment.

“What’s this…?” he finally managed, though his voice had lost everything, save for a terrible vulnerability that should not have been there in Zoro Roronoa.

Sanji’s eyes closed, actually feeling his heart break a little, but he had to answer.

He swallowed and murmured, “The other choice I didn’t have…..”

Sanji wasn’t expecting the shuddering breath that would leave Zoro.

In everything difficult they’d experienced together, talked about together, he’d never seen such a look of utter loss on the other man’s face.

Sanji had to do something. There was no way he could sit there and do _nothing,_ so he reached out to touch Zoro’s jaw again, pull him down to press their foreheads together, fingers stroking desperately at his cheeks.

“Zoro…” he breathed, quieting his voice because, while they had privacy behind those curtains, there was much at risk if they were overheard. But he had to assure him....

“I still _love_ you, dammit!” Sanji hissed. “I don’t want this! I want out---I want to run away and not be involved with this _anymore._ I want what _we had_ and I don’t care how difficult it is!”

He resisted the urge to sob, but it was hard, his eyes and throat burning, his nose brushing against Zoro’s, almost _willing_ the man to lean in and kiss him so that everything could be alright. He didn’t know how it would be, but if Zoro was with him, they could figure it out, even if it meant keeping their relationship a secret for the rest of his days.

No such reassurance came.

“But we can’t….” Zoro said, not pulling away, but there was complete and utter defeat in his tone, something Sanji was positive he’d _never_ heard from him before. “....It’s impossible.”

Sanji nearly jolted in surprise at his words, leaning back ever so slightly so he could see his eyes.

His heart pounded violently in his chest, a sickening dread filling him as he searched Zoro’s face for any sign that he was kidding. That he _didn’t_ really feel that way, fingers stroking madly now as if to coax it out of him.

 _“Since when do **you** give up…..?”_ he finally managed to whisper, willing Zoro to prove him wrong.

Please…. Please don’t….

 _“When he’s already gone......”_ Zoro murmured softly in response, and he slowly reached up to remove Sanji’s hands from his face, returning them to the blond’s lap as gently as could be.

He leaned in then, fingers threading in Sanji’s hair and lips pressing to his forehead.

Sanji watched, stunned, as Zoro’s chest shuddered with a few shaky breaths when his lips broke contact, his hands lingering for as long as they dared before he was pulling away entirely.

“Goodbye, Sanji,” and then he was getting to his feet, disappearing through the curtains and seemingly out of Sanji’s life forever.

Panic choked the breath out of him, his head spinning, and heart feeling ready to hammer out of his ribcage.

“Zoro!” he called out fruitlessly. “Zoro, _wait!”_

No response. He wasn’t coming back.

Sanji’s eyes widened frantically, and despite the aches and dizziness, he threw back his blankets, fully intent on chasing after him.

He wasn’t letting it end like this. He didn’t want it to end _period,_ dammit!

But just as he moved to push off the bed, he stopped short, a horrified breath shuddering out of him, still staring straight ahead at the spot where Zoro had disappeared.

He didn’t move.

Because he couldn’t, physically _couldn’t._

And when his gaze shifted, terrified, to his lower half, his mouth was agape, breaths quickening beyond his control, on the verge of hyperventilation.

For there, on the bed, beside his intact left leg, was his right.

But below the knee, there was nothing.

Nothing but a void.


	3. Armistice

**_Six years later…_ **

* * *

He was going to be there.

 _He_ was going to be there that night, and though it had been six years and one entire _war_ since Zoro had vanished through Sanji’s hospital curtains, the twisting in the blond's gut was more prominent than it had been in a long-ass time.

This was partially why he’d stolen away to the basement of the Baratie, kicking the shit out of a worn-out punching bag hanging by a chain from the ceiling, when he should have been getting ready for the ceremony.

He was literally kicking the shit out of it, balancing on his good leg and pivoting his body to slam the hard wood and metal of his prosthetic into the bag repeatedly with force, only to lower his right leg to the ground, turn himself and then come back with a powerful roundhouse with his left.

Sanji wasn’t picturing Zoro’s face as his bare feet connected over and over, the bag nearly flying off its hook a few times before he stopped it swinging and started anew.

Zoro had been right, all those years ago, and he held no resentment towards the man who’d only shown him the error of his ways, opened his eyes to his own weakness. So when he kicked, it was to combat nerves, the feeling that rose within him at the thought of even laying eyes on someone he hadn’t seen in so long.

Zoro’s face had been in the newspaper, particularly in the final few years of the war, as he’d quickly ascended the ranks to finish as a colonel, even at the young age of twenty-five.

Sanji couldn’t have reached out to him. His field didn’t allow it. As an espionage agent for the Rebellion, interacting with anyone but the _very_ top officials was a death sentence.

Still, he hoped Zoro knew. He hoped Zoro knew what he’d done with himself---why he’d been nominated for the Medal of Honor he was receiving that night.

He hadn’t done any of this for anyone’s approval but his own.

But maybe, just maybe, Zoro had seen that he’d changed, and if he had, that was enough closure for Sanji, even if they never spoke a word to each other ever again, continued living their separate lives.

Because Sanji had seen _him,_ felt pride for him, despite not having the right to feel so. Zoro was no longer his in any way, shape, or form, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to forever see him as the ever-strong Zoro who’d taught him to never be afraid, to accept himself and not give a damn about what anyone thought.

He’d done so….until he’d made mistakes….and then it was with everything in his power that he’d worked to change that, get back to a place where he _could_ accept himself and his actions.

…

_See me, Zoro…. I’m not a coward anymore…_

…

A gruff clearing of a throat behind him, just as Sanji’s prosthetic managed to finally kick the bag off its hook fully, jostling the buckles that wrapped around his thigh and causing the leg’s armature to give a creak of warning.

He scrambled to catch the bag before it could tumble to the floor and potentially tear, knowing the thing was full of sand. And the man who’d appeared at the bottom of the stairwell would _not_ be pleased in the slightest if he made a mess of his basement, which, like the rest of his business, was highly organized.

“Brat, if you break another one of those, yer losin’ salary for three months, you hear?”

“What, the leg or the bag?” the blond asked, dragging the punching bag over to its spot against the wall before turning back to face his grandfather.

He was still panting slightly, sweat plastering the thin fabric of his tank top to his skin, but he grinned as he ran a hand back through his hair and grabbed the towel he’d draped earlier over an old bar stool to wipe his face.

“Either,” Zeff grumbled, crossing arms over his chest. “Honestly, should just withhold it now. Yer already skipping out on a shift…”

“You told me to go home and get ready! Think your memory’s starting to go, geezer,” Sanji muttered in reply, propping his prosthetic up on the same bar stool and rolling up his loose pant leg to get a look at it.

No cracks or damage to the pale wooden exterior, and the suction socket cupping his knee was still firmly in place beneath the straps that reinforced it.

“No harm done,” he breathed, letting his pants down again before walking towards the stairs, eyeing the white chef’s uniform his grandpa still wore. “Don’t see you making any moves to get ready for tonight either, old man. You’d better not be late.”

“Go home,” was all Zeff grunted in reply as Sanji climbed the stairs ahead of him, only smirking when he was sure his grandson couldn’t see.

* * *

When Zoro’s car pulled up in front of the former Elders’ Mansion that evening, it was a scene unprecedented outside. Rebellion soldiers entering what had once been the symbol of the oppressive Government, to now be welcomed formally and recognized for their bravery and valor by none other than Commander-in-Chief Kong himself.

Of course, if it hadn’t been for Kong’s sense of moral justice and his subsequent defecting from the Government army, it likely wouldn’t have inspired the mass abandonment of other strong Government players, and the Rebellion might have lost the cause.

But now they were here to celebrate the deeds of everyday men and women who had exhibited strength and brought about change and hope for peace and equality.

Or...something like that. _Zoro_ just hoped he remembered the damn words he was supposed to say at the beginning. Why he’d been chosen to give the opening remarks, he had _no_ idea.

After all, he could hardly think straight for an entirely different reason.

Zoro knew the list of names. He knew who was receiving honors that night.

And he knew that a certain Sanji Black, formerly Vinsmoke, was one of them.

‘Black’ had become his alias, Zoro knew, though Sanji had asked to keep it for the ceremony, and honestly, none of this pomp and circumstance was even necessary to tell Zoro that Sanji had done it. He hadn’t let anything or anyone stop him from fighting for what he believed in, and now? All Zoro wished for was his happiness.

Because he didn’t want that broken, lost look on Sanji’s face, that had been there when he’d forced himself away from his bed, to be the last thing he remembered of their time together.

Sanji was so damn strong, but the thought that he’d abandoned the blond...that he should have listened and tried to understand, _stayed with him,_ especially when he’d been sitting there, missing a leg, with his own misguided actions assaulting him….

That thought hadn’t left Zoro for a good year after the fact, until he’d first heard from the higher-ups of the secret work Sanji was doing for the Rebellion.

“Zoro.”

A soft voice beside him, and he realized the car had stopped in front of the bustling walkway towards the grand entrance to the mansion.

He turned his head to glance at Tashigi, militant in her full Navy captain’s uniform, her dark blue-black hair pulled into a tight bun, glasses glinting in the moonlight.

“Are you ready?” she asked, and when she offered him a reassuring smile, squeezed his arm gently, she reminded him so much of Kuina that it took his breath away momentarily.

But then again, that fact didn’t scare him anymore.

So he composed himself, nodded, moved to get out of the car first, then stood by the door and offered his hand to her as she climbed out after him, his golden pins and badges jingling slightly as he closed the car door behind her.

She reached up to adjust his hat that he was already eager to take off as soon as the ceremony ended, straightening the small visor and smoothing out the lapels of his dark green jacket.

He was pretty sure she could sense his nerves, even behind his usual stoic facade, because she smirked, a quick brush of fingers making sure her own white uniform and hat were in order before she slipped an arm through his and steered them towards the entrance and the throngs of similarly uniformed people also making their way inside.

Zoro tried to focus on how damn calm _Tashigi_ was, to keep himself together….

* * *

It didn’t quite work, because while she was relaxed as they ambled about the great hall, speaking formally and politely to their seniors and chatting more amiably with their lower-ranked comrades, Zoro couldn’t vary his demeanor.

It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, because he’d become known for how serious he was, only _really_ breaking when he was forced to work with crazies like Captain _Monkey_ from the Navy, who, insane as his name sounded, at only twenty-three, had managed to lead an entire fleet of Rebellion ships into a suicide mission that….hadn’t suffered any casualties on their side.

The fact that he’d turned out to be Sabo’s younger adopted brother had only added to the madness.

He spotted both of the brothers over by a long table of hor d'oeuvres, stuffing their faces with less dignity than would be assumed of two highly-ranked commissioned officers…

Maybe he’d go over and talk to them because, as it was, he was already tuning out a conversation between Tashigi and Major Koala, who’d worked with Sabo on a special intelligence operative the year prior.

It was still a little strange to him, just how familiar with this world he’d become, he thought as he scanned the huge hall, most of which consisted of faces he knew, _people_ he knew.

He’d started this whole thing, still a teenager, with hardly any desire to learn anything about his fellow service members.

But that had been foolish, Zoro had quickly learned, to think that he couldn’t and _shouldn’t_ rely on them.

He wouldn’t have survived this far had he kept himself closed.

And he certainly wouldn’t have----

His gaze flicked automatically towards the grand staircase when he heard a small, out-of-place shriek, that he soon realized belonged to a child.

He’d seen a few of them around, brought along to the banquet by their mothers and fathers, and it seemed this was no exception, a little toddler girl with curly blond hair and a white dress, giggling as her mother, also blond, bounced her gently on her hip.

That was all the scene was, or at least, what Zoro could see of it from between the uniformed crowds.

He should have looked away.

But for some reason, he didn’t, because, staring at the woman for a longer moment, he realized she was wearing a high-ranking nurse’s uniform….and he recognized her.

It was the woman from the hospital, the blond who had tended to him briefly and shown him to Sanji’s bed and---

She was passing the little girl over to a man, and Zoro only saw his jacket sleeves first, the lighter gray color of the espionage unit….

And then, as fate would have it, the crowds seemed to shift just enough for him to get a clear view of the man’s face.

 _Sanji’s_ face, as he held the child close, nuzzled his nose to hers and grinned when she reached out to touch his cheek with a smile of her own.

Years.

It had been years, over half a _decade,_ with _so_ much happening in between, and yet his heart clenched in the same way it had when he’d seen Sanji on that hospital bed. It ached as if it had never stopped, as if he wasn’t standing here, in this mansion, with Tashigi holding his arm lightly, but rather, back in that godforsaken trench, the dirt as his pillow and the sleepless terror as his blanket that one day he’d find Sanji’s name in the list of deaths….

Again, he should have looked away.

He should have let this moment pass, because what had he expected?

The ring on Sanji’s finger all those years ago had been precisely enough to make him give up, and while he wasn’t sure how the nurse had come into the picture, he supposed it made sense.

He still remembered how oddly reluctant she’d been to let him see Sanji, how attentive and caring she’d been to place him apart from the others while he recovered….

And now Sanji was here, cuddling that little girl with his brilliant smile, and every feeling Zoro had tried so hard to forget was rushing back to him with alarming speed.

He didn’t even notice guests were starting to shuffle into the banquet hall for the ceremony until he felt a slight tug on his arm, Tashigi beginning to walk towards the doors as well.

Zoro had no choice but to follow, though his eyes lingered on the blond, who had passed the little girl back to her mother.

When Sanji received a kiss on the cheek from the woman, Zoro finally looked away.

* * *

“Be good for your mommy during the ceremony~” Sanji crooned as Kaya took the giggling girl from him and settled her on her hip once more.

The woman gave a bit of an exasperated look, as if she were daunted by the prospect of handling the child all by herself.

“You know she enjoys her theatrics,” Kaya replied, her daughter already babbling a happy little song in her ear.

Sanji grinned, watching her blond curls bounce about, and he leaned in to give one last tickle to the girl’s chin.

“She’s just excited her daddy’s getting a Medal of Honor~”

Kaya chuckled, shook her head slightly as she smiled fondly up at Sanji, then leaned in to kiss his cheek.

“I’ll see you after the ceremony. Good luck, Sanji~” she said, and though he blushed slightly, Sanji nodded, waving goodbye sweetly as the two headed off towards the hall.

Sanji sighed, a lingering smile on his face before he looked down to straighten his uniform a bit.

He was due to meet the other award recipients in another room for a quick debriefing before the actual ceremony, so he shot one last glance around the hall to----

His heart stopped, and his mouth went entirely dry, an audible gasp sucking its way into his lungs.

Because there, making his way into the banquet hall…..it was _him._

There was Zoro, in full, impressive uniform, and though he had a faint scar traveling down the side of his face, closing his left eye, nothing had changed. Maybe some muscular bulk had been added as well, but other than that….

No. Something _had_ changed, Sanji noticed, when Zoro’s direction shifted a bit, giving Sanji clear view that the woman walking beside him actually had her _arm_ through his, and---

That was the Navy captain Zoro had been working so closely with on the last few missions of the war.

Sanji knew this because that woman and her superior, Vice Admiral Smoker, had been some of the more high-profile officers to desert the Government, to change their stance in the name of their own sense of justice.

And she was speaking softly to Zoro, smiling at him…

Sanji sighed and continued walking off.

* * *

Zoro’s speech went by. He somehow remembered the words, though he recited them with hardly any emotion. But they were all soldiers here. No one should have expected anything out of a motion picture. This was real life.

And real life could be serious.

He was glad Sanji hadn’t been there for the opening remarks, glad that the recipients were brought out after the polite applause had died down and he’d already moved to stand rigidly by the row of flags adorning the small stage.

The country had no new official leader yet, so soon after the Government’s concession, and the nationwide vote was to occur in the coming weeks.

So it was Kong who did the presenting of the awards, assisted by Vice Admiral Smoker and General Dragon, the man who’d organized the whole Rebellion, the three now working together to reward bravery, which was completely objective across all backgrounds and beliefs.

Zoro was surprised they awarded Captain Monkey with his medal first, because that meant the over-excitable guy now had to stand beside Zoro while the others went, practically vibrating with the effort it took him to simply stand still. How this guy had even made it through basic military training, Zoro had no idea.

There were others awarded after him, among them a Major named Kohza, who’d staged a coup to take down one of the Government-sponsored warlords, a disgraceful guy named Crocodile. There was Usopp, a wing commander from the Air Force, and an expert sniper, who’d protected an orphanage from an enemy air raid that did not distinguish an innocent civilian from a Rebel looking to fight.

And last, there was Sanji.

As his achievements were read off, Zoro knew them all already, but he remembered more specific ones.

He remembered he’d had the fastest, hardest kick out of anyone in their training squadron, and that didn’t seem to have changed one bit with the absence of a leg.

He remembered he could cook, on top of everything, and that everyone, including the actual cooks, had loved it when he’d stepped in to help enhance their meager rations.

He remembered his strength and the powerful glint in his eye when they sparred, remembered his hands, precious to him, over his own body, how he’d kissed and loved so fiercely that it made Zoro feel like he was the only person in the world.

The cause had been lucky to have him, Zoro thought, as that vibrant blue strap that matched his eyes was clipped around his neck, the blond staring seriously straight ahead over the audience, though Zoro could tell from the slight tremble of his chest just how much emotion he was fighting to keep off his face.

In truth, Sanji was thinking of nothing but Zoro as the heavy weight of the medal sunk onto his chest, feeling the other man’s eyes on him, but knowing he couldn’t look.

He couldn’t. Not anymore.

And as much as Sanji had wanted to think this was okay now, as much as he’d thought this night should have given him some closure, he realized, even over the thunderous applause when all the award recipients were presented again together, that he didn’t feel that closure.

He felt like his heart had been ripped open anew….

* * *

The dinner afterwards passed in a blur, Sanji sitting at a large round table with the other recipients and their families, his own old man sitting beside him, listening to Usopp tell dramatic stories of his adventures, all of which were true, to the others’ amusement.

Sanji played along, laughed and smiled and acted engaged, though his mind was still elsewhere, and he was craving a cigarette.

So as soon as there was a lull between the main courses and dessert, Sanji excused himself and stole away from the table, heading through a pair of tall glass-paneled doors on the side of the hall that led onto a wide balcony overlooking the back gardens.

It was rather beautiful, some of the pathways and fountains below illuminated with warm, glowing lights, and this was where he leaned elbows on the railing and struck up a cigarette, taking in the cool night breeze, the voices inside now muffled behind him.

He pulled the nicotine into his lungs, let it soothe him as he closed his eyes, remembering it had been an early summer night like this when Zoro had first urged him away from camp, taken him to a small glen he’d found in the woods while doing stealth training the day before. How he found it again with his awful sense of direction, Sanji never knew.

Sanji had been scared, of everything and nothing at the same time, _knowing_ that he was going against everything he’d ever thought he _was_ by being with Zoro, everything society told him to be.

But then their lips had met, and he’d forgotten why he would ever stop himself from taking what he wanted….

Sanji didn’t open his eyes, not even when he heard the sound of the door behind him opening and closing again, a pair of tentative footsteps passing through and stopping for a long moment before eventually starting up again, crossing the flagstones until he sensed a presence on his left side.

Had he really come out here…?

Sanji opened his eyes finally, but didn’t look over, just stood there and stared out over the gardens silently.

Zoro didn’t say anything either for a long time, but eventually, Sanji heard him sigh, and then his voice rumbled softly.

“Congratulations,” he said, and it was one word, yet Sanji’s entire chest constricted in response.

Still, he managed to blow out a stream of smoke steadily and smoothly answer, “Thanks.”

Silence followed, and it stretched long enough that it was very nearly awkward…

Until Zoro mumbled, “Seems like you accomplished a lot, even with a gimpy peg leg.”

_“Excuse me?!”_

Despite everything, Sanji’s natural response to the idiot kicked right in, as if no time had passed, and he turned himself to start beating at Zoro’s shin with said ‘peg leg’ that was shaped like a normal human calf and foot, thank you very much. He wasn’t some pirate….or his crazy grandfather.

“I got this _peg leg_ saving your _life---!”_ he gritted out between kicks as Zoro tried to shy away. “So you--- _respect it_ \---got it?!”

But the dumb mosshead actually laughed, a real, uninhibited laugh, something that seemed to surprise him just as much as Sanji as soon as it escaped him.

Zoro’s eyes widened, and Sanji stopped his kicking, the two of them standing and looking sheepish for a few beats, neither knowing quite what to do.

But that was when Zoro slowly lifted his eyes to look at Sanji, properly, for the first time in so long.

Sanji parted his hair a different way. That was new, though it was still the same blond mop, and he seemed to have grown into his lanky height, no longer as thin and scrawny as he’d been as a teen.

Clearly, he was still Sanji though. For all his bitching now, he’d seen him at the dinner table, smiling and laughing and charming everyone besides the gruff old man seated beside him, presumably his grandfather.

Discomfort settled in Zoro’s chest again when he thought of the blond nurse, with that pretty little girl on her lap…

“So….” he found himself saying, because they might as well address it. “That’s definitely the nurse from the hospital, right?....M’not just imaginin’ shit?”

Sanji seemed surprised Zoro had mentioned it, but he eventually nodded, even managed a tiny upturn of lips.

“No, you’re not,” he answered. “Funny how things work out, huh….”

Zoro didn’t quite think it was _funny,_ but he nodded anyway and replied, “Yeah….”

He should say something else.

It had been six years, dammit. Anything else…

“Um….your daughter’s….real….cute an’ all that,” he stuttered out with some degree of difficulty, not knowing how to talk about kids, and certainly not about _Sanji’s…_

“My...daughter?” Sanji asked, tilting his head slightly, and Zoro shrugged.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, gesturing towards the doors and feeling awkwardness start to overcome him. “Saw you in there with…...her and---Kate---Kay---”

He stumbled over the nurse’s name, nerves finally getting the better of him, and he winced in embarrassment, wondering if he should just end the exchange here and let Sanji get back to his night.

Surely he didn’t need this. He was supposed to be celebrating, after all….

“Kaya…?” was Sanji’s next word, before his eyes widened and he blurted, “Oh, you mean _Usopp’s_ daughter?” He huffed out a breath, falling into awkward territory himself. “Yeah, no, she’s adorable, but---not mine, uh…”

He didn’t notice for a few seconds that Zoro had frozen, stopped breathing entirely, a look of utter shock coming over his normally immovable features.

Sanji noticed it eventually though, his own brows drawing in as he started to ask, “Hey, are you oka---?”

“So that’s not your wife?” Zoro interrupted, urgently, _desperately,_ if Sanji dared to think it, and for a second, a sliver of hope worked its way into his heart.

But then, he quickly squashed it, recalled that the last thing Zoro likely remembered about him was the silver engagement band on his ring finger.

“No. No, she’s not,” Sanji assured hastily, and he even held up his bare left hand as proof. “I---”

He huffed out a heavy breath, figuring he should just explain everything.

“After---this shit….” He jutted out his fake leg. “My father was furious. Thought I’d disgraced him. Made it that much easier to combat his threats though, break off the engagement he wanted so damn badly for me. Some heiress I’d never met….daughter of one of his business partners apparently.”

Sanji chuckled slightly, less out of amusement than simple nostalgia of the beat-down he’d received from his grandpa as soon as he’d made it back to the Baratie to recover.

“You...and my old man...you knocked some damn sense into me. Got me _trusting_ people instead of trying to protect them all on my own. I’m….sorry I ever lost sight of that.”

The blond shrugged, not knowing what else to say. He wasn’t trying to win any favors with Zoro now, just telling him the truth.

“You probably heard about my father and my brothers,” Sanji added, while close to the subject. “They pulled some seriously messed-up shit in the end, and I’m also sorry I couldn’t stop that…”

He was due to appear at his former, as far as he was concerned, family’s trial, and Sanji knew there wasn’t much hope for them. Once one was labeled a war criminal for illegal weapons experiments on civilians? Escape chances from that were next to zero.

Zoro still wasn’t saying anything, just staring at him in a way that was starting to get uncomfortable, and Sanji really hadn’t thought his story was _that_ shocking. After all, Zoro knew he’d gone back to the Rebellion. Zoro knew what he’d, ultimately, fought for.

Sanji found himself scrambling to fill the odd silence with something he didn’t want to talk about, but may as well, because it might get a reply out of the suddenly mute soldier.

“But you, um….you and Captain Tashigi, huh?” he said slowly. “I mean, that’s...”

Suddenly, Zoro’s hands clamped down on his forearms, the soldier shaking his head almost frantically, eyes not leaving Sanji’s.

“That’s not---I was her escort---” he huffed out quickly. “Smoker was---helping with the ceremony so---”

And Sanji’s reaction mirrored Zoro’s of a minute ago, lightness flooding his chest and clouding his head, enough that he couldn’t speak, couldn’t move as Zoro continued to stare at him with such hope and such desperation that he couldn’t _breathe._

 _“Sanji,”_ Zoro whispered, and Sanji had missed Zoro’s voice saying his name. He’d missed it _so_ much.

His heart pounded in anticipation for something he shouldn’t _dare_ anticipate.

But watching Zoro standing there, so close, eyes searching his with the same emotion he felt within himself, he _did_ dare…

Zoro lifted shoulders slowly, mouth working for words, but he was powerless to resist what he admitted next.

_“It’s still you…”_

He saw the look on Sanji’s face, saw it morph into something he’d seen before, the same hopeless, foolish devotion they’d both shared all those years ago.

Was he….? Did he….?

And then Sanji shrugged too, let out a shaky laugh despite the shimmer in his eyes, and replied, as if it were obvious all along, _“You too.”_

Zoro’s breath left him in one forceful exhale.

And then he didn’t wait.

He moved his grip to Sanji’s waist, pulled him close, and returned the kiss he’d wanted to since that night in the hospital.

Sanji’s cigarette dropped to the ground, forgotten, as hands lifted to Zoro’s jaw, his lips pressed back, and as far as Zoro knew, this was it. It was over. _This_ was the true ending to the war he’d been fighting, as stupid as that sounded, but dammit, he didn’t care.

When Sanji’s lips parted to deepen the kiss, Zoro’s palms moved up his back, slid beneath the leather belt that stretched down from his shoulder to his waist in a bid to get closer.

He tasted just as he used to, of smoke and spices, of heat and goddamn _adventure_ that Zoro never wanted to walk away from again.

Could they do this? Could they _really_ do this?

Because it sure as hell seemed like they could, particularly when he angled his own head automatically, slanted lips more urgently against the blond’s, who simply opened eagerly and gripped fingers tightly in his hair, just as unwilling to let him go, it seemed.

By the time they parted, if only to breathe, Zoro’s nose stayed right there against Sanji’s, feeling his warm pants and lingering kisses that the blond couldn’t help but trail from the corner of Zoro’s slack mouth, over his jaw before he stopped to nuzzle the other man’s cheek.

 _“So you’re not---with anyone?”_ Zoro stuttered out, heart still racing and head still trying to wrap around what was happening, after so long.

 _“No, you idiot,”_ Sanji huffed half-heartedly with a tender nip to Zoro’s bottom lip, finally opening his eyes to meet Zoro’s.

Zoro still looked rather dazed, staying close and sliding arms tighter around him, disbelieving gaze drifting over Sanji’s face in the dim light.

 _“So is this---a-are we back---to---are you okay with it?”_ he stammered next, prompting Sanji to grin, press a hand to his cheek and kiss the opposite one.

 _“Use your brain, mosshead. **Yes** ,”_ the blond murmured. _“Did you forget what I did for the whole war, Zoro? I think I can handle a little more secrecy.”_

To that, Zoro smiled, lopsided, lovestruck.

And then he said something he’d been wanting to say for six years, ever since Sanji had tried to desperately hold onto him.

 _“I still love you too…”_ he murmured, and because Sanji’s smile in response was so elated and beautiful, he had to add, _“Peg Leg.”_

The stomp of hard wood on his boot, he saw coming.

The hard kiss to his lips, he did not.

But maybe now, he’d start remembering to expect it again.

* * *

* * *

**~END~**

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bwahhh, how sickeningly romantic. xD But I mean, you knew it had to end like this. Thanks for reading!


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